


just wanna be yours

by sultrygoblin



Category: The Chronicles of Riddick (2004)
Genre: Daddy Kink, F/M, Naked Female Clothed Male, Smut, blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:27:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27041230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sultrygoblin/pseuds/sultrygoblin
Summary: one shot - secrets i have held in my heart are harder to hide than i thought. maybe i just wanna be yours
Relationships: Alexander Toombs/Reader
Kudos: 1





	just wanna be yours

**Author's Note:**

> “you’re the only thing that matters” - fifty more ways to say i love you

You’re smart, you’re fast, and you’re more than a little something to look at. It’s why he hired you, but it ain’t why he likes you. Part of that is because he didn’t at first. You’re a smarmy little brat who gets away with it by smiling pretty and he can’t deny it had worked its magic on him a little too damn fast. Till he really starts to like the way you piss him off. There’s a special kind of way you press his buttons. And it started with one magical word; _daddy_.

Fuck, just thinking about it made him rock hard. Not that he’d admit it. Well, not that he’d admit it in any way that seemed genuine. You’re the only one who sticks around and he’s not about to risk that on trying to get his dick wet. Two years is no small amount of time to be running with his crew. Six months had been the record. Even then it took a huge cash prize and the skin of his teeth to keep them around. Except you. Toombs had to admit that had more than a little to do with the ever-growing problem. This wasn’t just physical anymore. This was that real kind of bullshit. He gave an actual fuck, more than a few even.

* * *

Which is exactly why it’s just the two of you on the ship now and he’s patching you up rather than splitting quite a lot of cash with far too many people. He’s used to stitching you up, but not like this. He left a mark, cash, and his team, for you. And there’s no way you hadn’t noticed that. God, he just wishes you would say something about, anything. But it’s just silence while you hold your tank top up and he slathers the second skin over your cleaned wound.

He doesn’t think about it when he blows on it, “Don’t,” it’s the first word either of you had managed and he’s not going to let it get away.

“Don’t what, princess?” you move to drop your tank top and though your hand makes it, the fabric doesn’t, “Don’t what?”

“You fucking know,” you say, tone hard as your eyes cut into his hand now holding the thin fabric.

He taps the edges, finding it still tacky, his pinky dragging across the skin over your ribs, “You talkin’ about that?”

“Fucking with me is a special kind of cruel,” it comes out of you with a long sigh that is one thing; annoyance.

“Does this look like playin’ to you, princess?” gesturing to your surrounding’s, “After all this time you think I’m bullshitting ya?” you go to roll your eyes, how he knows you don’t know, but your chin is in his hand, “You are the only thing that matters. Whether I like it or not,” and he isn’t letting go till you get it through your head.

“So, what’s the plan, daddy?” you shoot best you can with his bruising grip on your jaw, “Can’t unring a bell.”

Taking everything back is the last thing he wants, instead, he pushes forward until his teeth clank against yours, reopening your split lip and letting the delicious taste of you coat his tongue. Your hands drop, hitting the metal with a dull clang but your tank top clings and he groans, throwing himself back against the wall. Thankful for the coolness when he’s pulled you into his lap. You’ve been yanked out of your stupor, his hands traveling along your exposed skin, careful to avoid the worst wounds as he seemingly tries to suck out your soul. You can’t help moaning, your fingers dancing along the hard planes of his clothed muscles before trailing along his arms. Every corded muscle tense and relaxes at your traveling touch, he grips the back of your neck tightly, fingers fumbling with the button and zipper of your skintight jeans. Fighting beneath the denim, your silky panties along the back of his knuckles so he could cup your dripping heat in his hand. You’re soaked through, if it weren’t for his own thick tac pants he might’ve noticed.

“That all for me, baby girl?” he groans, dipping a thick finger between your folds, your entire body jerks towards him, “It’s fucked up you been keeping this from me.”

“I’m sorry,” you gasp, he rewards you by slipping a finger inside to the base, ball of his hand pressed to your pulsing clit, “I’ll make it up to you, daddy,” interrupting yourself with a low keen when he begins to work the digit in and out of her, “I swear.”

He wants to throw you on the floor, flip you over, and pound into your until you cry, maybe it will be one of the ways you make it up to him. But right now your captain is perfectly content with his special brand of torture. The lackadaisical way he pumps the digit, not moving his hand just holding the pressure. You don’t dare grind against him, terrified if you try to steal any more pleasure from this moment he’ll take it away from you completely. 

“Who knew you could be such a good girl?” he whispers, lips against your ear before taking the lobe between his teeth and sucking lightly.

Your head lolls back, a sigh catches in your throat, every muscle simultaneously tensing and relaxing. Your body is teetering on that edge, overwhelmed with so many sensations and emotions that even the smallest crumbs of pleasure he’s given you are amplified. He chuckles quietly, feeling you clamp down on his fingers, walls fluttering, searching for something bigger to clamp down on. It’s the best sneak peek he could ask for and gives you what you want. A second finger beginning to stretch you as he grinds your needy bud against the calloused skin of his palm.

“I’m gonna cum, daddy, I’m gonna cum,” your breathless, panting as you lock your gaze on his own reappearing one. 

It’s perfect, “Come on, princess,” he doesn’t have to tell you what to do, “Just like that,” it’s like you can read his thoughts, “One day, I’m gonna make sure you see how fuckin’ beautiful look right now.”

Still dressed, slick with sweat, desire oozing from every pore as you clung to whatever thread of pleasure he was willing to offer you, “Fuck, daddy,” over and over again, it’s music to his years, even when it’s lost in whimpers as your lose yourself. 

It’s quick and intense, offering you no relief, only the need for more and the beginning sensations of being oversensitized. How long had it been since you’d had anything but your own fingers down there? The last thing you had run on batteries had been lost in the first downed ship with Toombs and you hadn’t bothered to buy a new one. 

“Jesus Christ, you are tight,” yanking down the front of your shirt as he greedily clamped down on a nipple, you shriek.

You slam one hand against the wall, the other is being moved by his bruising grip on your wrist till it pressed against the bulging zipper of his pants, “Please,” you don’t know what you’re begging for, just hoping if you do it hard enough, needy enough, he’ll give you whatever it is he knows you need.

He should play with you more, he knows that, but it will be more fun when they have all night, “Well, it ain’t gonna work with your jeans on.”

He could drool at how quickly you toed off your boots and yank your pants to the floor, watching you strip the rest of your clothes off as he pulled his achingly hard cock from his opened fly, briefs folded to keep the metal from digging into his sensitive skin. You wait, eye glued to his hand moving slowly up and down himself, smirking at you with the thought that he could torture you the most by finishing himself off. Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, he watches your chest rise and fall harshly, nipples straining towards him in a mixture of the cold and pleasure. 

“This really all it takes to make you listen, baby girl?” patting his thigh with a hand, the other gesturing you towards him.

He doesn’t have to tell you twice, you’re on him in an instant. Clinging to him as you grind against him, the satin skin of his cock rubbing against your overworked nerves makes you growl low in your throat. It releases his own desperate monster, wrapping his arm tight around your waist, reaching down to angle himself just right. On your next stroke upward he slips inside you.

“Holy fuck,” his grip on your stops you from losing the rhythm, you take him deeply before he slips almost entirely from you, then deep inside you again, “Fu-uck, daddy!” you’re almost crying, barely adjusting to the stretch before he’s gone only to fill you up again.

He’s never had a woman this tight before, he’ll never admit he almost busts right there, gritting his teeth, even as everything he wanted to hear tumbled from his lips, he kept the steady beat hoping it would be enough to help him hold his shit together. He shifts his focus to you, running his tongue down the curve of your neck, relishing in the salty taste of you, finally dragging your ignored nipple between his teeth. He holds himself inside you when you’re pussy clenches him in a vice, your hips undulating against him as you climbed your orgasm higher and higher.

“Show me,” his voice husky, gripping the back of your neck and forcing your lips to his in a greedy kiss, “I wanna see my pretty princess cum.”

How you manage to thrust against him he doesn’t know, only that his eyes are rolling back in his head. Every inch of you clenches around him, the obscene sound of slapping skin echoes, he swears you’re close to crying, if not already. It mixes beautifully with your moans, he’s so close. You’re gone from his lap, he’s about to lose his mind when he feels your mouth and tongue on him instead. It’s messy and uncoordinated, you’re moaning and desperate for breath. It doesn’t take him long, your hand works with your mouth, your tongue expertly moving along the underside of his cock as you move up and down. Your nose hits his pelvis, he holds you there by the back of your head, tears streaming out the edges of your eyes, it’s the last thing he needs to erupt. Grinding against you as he pumped his cum down your throat, bypassing the need to swallow altogether. When he’s sure you’ve milked him dry, he let’s go, watching you fall back onto the ship floor, arms spread like some fucked up kind of angel.

“Next time,” you hold yourself up with your elbows, “You do the work.”

“Anything for you, princess.”


End file.
